


if you've got to spend your time, won't you spend it with me?

by bacchilles



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Living Together, M/M, Sharing a Bed, i have only a vague idea of where this is going but i know eventually there'll be, light french bc unfortunately i take french and i have to use it somewhere somehow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bacchilles/pseuds/bacchilles
Summary: Enjolras knew he shouldn’t say yes. It was a bad idea to say yes. Saying yes would open the door to constant fighting, to the potential to ruin their already tenuous friendship, and - most terrifying of potential consequences - to inescapably being known on an intimate level at which no one (except maybe Combeferre) had ever been allowed to know him. He had made sure of that. He had to think of self-preservation, here. He had every right to say no.“Yes, he is.”--Grantaire has to temporarily move in with Enjolras, and Enjolras has gay panic. What could go wrong?(This is my first fic ever so please be patient cause i have no idea what i'm doing <3)
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. Panic! At the Musain

**Author's Note:**

> Enjolras isn't happy that Grantaire dared to interrupt his lecture on leftist theory. Grantaire has other problems.

This was not how he had expected the night to go. Enjolras had nearly finished conducting what he believed to be a gripping lecture on dialectical materialism when Grantaire stumbled his way into the café, one hand holding a bottle and the other gripping the doorframe. Enjolras mentally noted that he looked even more inebriated than usual, which is to say that he probably would have called an ambulance if Combeferre had not quickly assessed the situation and snatched the bottle from Grantaire’s outstretched hand. Grantaire hardly even seemed to notice, moving forward only to crash-land into a chair next to Bahorel. Many of les Amis turned to look at him, concerned, though Grantaire ignored them, choosing to direct all of his attention towards what must have been a fascinating crack in the wooden table. Then, suddenly, he let out an overexaggerated groan before fully dropping his head to the table’s surface with a thud. Bahorel leaned over and patted his back, to which Grantaire responded with a half-hearted wave in what seemed to be the most pathetic-looking attempt to say  _ I’m fine _ that Enjolras had ever seen. 

Enjolras sighed. Perhaps Marx and Engels could wait. His voice filled the café as he called out, “Alright, I think that’s enough for today. We’ll pick this up next time, though, so make sure you read that critical analysis of the Hegelian dialectic I sent to all of you!” He vaguely noticed that, at his mention of required reading, many of les Amis seemed to file out of the room quicker. But, maybe that was just his imagination. Maybe there was some party tonight that he hadn’t heard about that they were trying to get to - personally, he  _ loved _ any chance to rip into Hegel he could get. 

Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Marius loitered a moment longer than the rest, looking worriedly at Grantaire, who hadn’t moved. Enjolras tried to give them his best  _ I’ll handle this _ look, hoping they got the message. Marius and Courfeyrac just looked blankly back at him, but luckily, Combeferre seemed to understand. Loudly, he said, “Oh, would you look at the time? We have that, uh,  _ thing _ , don’t we Courf? Marius? Remember that thing that we have to do? Right now?”, shepherding them out the door as he spoke. When finally the door had shut and they were alone in the café, Enjolras walked over to Grantaire, taking the seat next to him. After a beat, he remarked,

“As usual, Grantaire, I’m truly amazed at your eagerness to always show up ready and prepared to discuss the topic of every week’s meetings. Your dedication really warms my heart.” 

Not looking up, Grantaire flipped him the bird. Enjolras suppressed a grin, remembering the state in which Grantaire had entered the room. Admittedly, it was common to see Grantaire drunk at Musain meetings, but he had never quite looked  _ this _ far gone before. While Grantaire was typically found in some state of dishevelment, he looked like he had been caught in a tornado on his way over. His unwashed black hair stuck out in multiple different directions, and his entire body was shaking. His ratty, paint-covered green hoodie had seemingly gained a few new stains that smelled suspiciously of tequila. Mysteriously, he had also somehow lost his left shoe. Despite the commotion of everyone leaving, his head remained on the table behind his crossed arms, hiding his face from view. The image of a turtle in its shell briefly came to Enjolras’ mind. 

Enjolras cautiously put a hand on his back, in the space between his shoulder blades. He couldn’t tell if he had imagined it or not, but at his touch, he thought he felt Grantaire tense up ever so slightly. Enjolras felt something wrench deep in his stomach.  _ Pull yourself together,  _ he chided himself, _ that doesn't matter right now.  _ He brought his focus back to Grantaire. 

“R. Could you please tell me what’s going on here?” Enjolras heard a pained yet familiar “ _ imfine, Apollo _ ” come from beneath Grantaire’s bowed head.

_ Thank god.  _ If he was capable of using that obnoxious nickname, he’d be alright. A wave of relief washed over Enjolras, and he felt the tension leave his body. He hadn’t even noticed how worried he’d been. However, his relief turned to annoyance when Grantaire suddenly lifted his head from its resting place and said, face turned towards the ceiling,

“Iz just my FUCKING STUPID life. god. FUCK.” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. Of course. Grantaire was just being dramatic, as usual. He was just about to start yelling at Grantaire for unnecessarily interrupting his  _ very _ important lecture when he stopped himself.  _ Deep breaths _ , he remembered, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. _ This isn’t the time for an argument.  _ He swallowed his retort and instead asked, “Grantaire. Can you just tell me what happened?”

Grantaire shifted to rest his elbows on the table, absentmindedly starting to pull at the strings on his hoodie. He hung his head and stared blankly at the inscriptions in the wood. Enjolras watched, suddenly rapt, as his long fingers tugged back and forth at the cords. It took him an extra second or two before he realized that Grantaire had begun to talk.

“It -  _ uuuugh _ ,  _ GOD, _ iz my  _ fucking  _ parents. They w -  _ uugjugugh  _ \- they want me to go back to their  _ stupid _ house ovrr break, which I donwanna do,  _ obviously _ . I jst . dont know what the fuck to do cause it’s not like I can do anythn else but  _ jesus FUCK _ , there’s  _ nothing _ I woudl - would rath - wouldnt rahter? -  _ burp _ \- wouldnt rather do than spend time with those .  _ fucking assholes _ .” He practically spat out the last word, moving as if to take another drink before remembering Combeferre had taken his bottle away, and dropped his fist back to the table. He closed his eyes, sat for a moment. Let out a frustrated breath. Rubbed his hands over his face, covering his eyes for a few seconds before pulling them back outward to rest on his cheeks. Finally, he settled his gaze on the window in the wall across from him and stared out into the dark evening. 

Enjolras sat quietly beside him, feeling worry creep back into his expression as he watched this display. He knew he should say something, but uncharacteristically, he wasn’t sure what. God knows he had had his own problems with his parents, but he knew that Grantaire’s parents were on another level of shitty. The things they had put him through while he was living at home would make anyone an alcoholic. To ask him to go back to that house, to leave the place where he had found a home for himself in exchange for the toxic environment he had waited for so long to escape? Enjolras couldn’t even imagine what that would feel like. Finally, he managed,

“Is there anything any of us can do to help?” He corrected himself. “Anything  _ I _ can do?” 

Grantaire barked out a laugh, running a trembling hand through his dark curls, the other balled tightly into a fist in a failed attempt to stop its shaking. Enjolras felt an overwhelming urge to cover his hand with his own, to run his thumb along Grantaire’s, to lace their fingers together and soothe him with the contact. He shook his head as if to clear it of his thoughts.  _ Stop that _ .  _ Focus.  _

“Unless you  _ magically  _ have a room I can crash in WITHOUT payigg rent . you are preeeetty much useless to me,” replied Grantaire, flashing him a wild but humorless grin. Enjolras’ stomach tightened. He  _ hated _ feeling useless.

“Have you asked Eponine? I’m sure she’d be happy to let you stay with her.” 

Grantaire coughed. “Shs already got a, ah,  _ vistor _ .” He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “ _ fucking Cosette. _ ” Enjolras decided to ignore this bit of information. They could address that some other time.

Suddenly, Grantaire turned to him and looked at him dead in the eyes. He felt his heart skip the smallest of beats. Poking at Enjolras’ chest, he slurred, “Nowww wait a GODDAMN second d. Didn’t I hear som -  _ burp _ \- something about ‘Ferre flying home for the winter?” 

Fuck. 

Without thinking, Enjolras sat back in his chair and started muttering to himself, “ _ putain de Courfeyrac, le connard -”  _ He looked up and saw Grantaire staring at him expectantly. 

Enjolras knew he shouldn’t say yes. It was a bad idea to say yes. Saying yes would open the door to constant fighting, to the potential to ruin their already tenuous friendship, and - most terrifying of potential consequences - to inescapably being known on an intimate level at which no one (except _maybe_ Combeferre) had ever been allowed to know him. He had made sure of that. He had to think of self-preservation, here. He had every right to say no. 

“Yes, he is.” 

God dammit.

Grantaire grinned, a mischievous look on his face. “Soooooooo...does this mean I can s -  _ cough _ \- stay with you ??” 

Enjolras sighed, already disappointed in himself, but there was no escaping it now. “Yes, of course you can stay with - ” He cleared his throat. “- with me. You can take Combeferre’s room. How long will you need to stay?”

He doesn’t usually do these things to himself. Normally he’d have a little more self respect, but tonight, it seemed Grantaire had managed to tug at his heartstrings as deftly as he’d pulled at the drawstrings of his sweatshirt. 

Grantaire thought for a moment. “Two? Yeah it was . Two months?”

Enjolras stared at him. “ _ Tu vas me tuer _ ,” he replied. He could feel his subconscious working overtime to process what he had just agreed to. He vaguely wondered if the lobes of his brain were unionized.

Grantaire beamed back at him in a hazy, liquor-and-relief-induced happiness. “I'll take that as a yes!” Suddenly, he reached for Enjolras’ face, grabbed it with both hands, and planted a large, wet, booze-smelling kiss on his forehead before painstakingly rising from his chair and stumbling his way back from whence he came. 

“Th -  _ burp _ \- Thanks Apollo!”

Enjolras wasn't sure for how long he had stayed frozen in his seat. It could've been minutes, hours, weeks, years.

_ What the hell just happened._


	2. Invite Me In?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enjolras is forced to face his decisions in the harsh light of day AKA he has More Gay Panic !

The next day, Enjolras wasn’t completely sure he hadn’t just imagined the entire interaction from the night before. He went through the motions of his morning routine as usual - he woke up at 6, took a shower, dressed, made himself a cup of tea, then read until 7:30, at which point he’d pried himself off the couch and started walking to his 8 AM advanced French course. It was like any other weekday, other than the addition of a small voice gnawing at him in the back of his mind. It poked and prodded at him as he walked through the cold morning fog, nagging, “ _Do you understand what you’ve done? Is he even going to remember? What will you do if he doesn’t? More importantly, what will you do if he_ _does_ _?_ ” 

Ugh. Enjolras tried to focus on the weather, stuffing his freezing hands into the pockets of his red windbreaker and trying his best to walk quickly despite the icy sidewalk. He counted his steps as he passed the small storefronts, briefly considering stopping for a coffee before deciding, _no, it would just make me late._ He mentally admonished himself. _You should’ve planned ahead if you wanted coffee._ As much as he loved the local coffee shop, _Helios_ , they could never seem to make a decent cappuccino in under ten minutes, no matter how empty the store was. He always tipped the baristas 20%, though - he wasn't an asshole. 

Grantaire was supposed to work there last winter, he remembered idly as he passed through the warm light spilling out from the café windows. Unfortunately, his plans had gone awry when, only one week after being hired, he had joined Enjolras in illegally painting a nearby wall with a mural dedicated to landlords and what they should do to themselves the next time they tried to evict anyone in the dead of winter. Grantaire hadn’t seemed to care as much as Enjolras about why they were creating the mural, but he had been enthusiastic to break rules when Enjolras brought up the idea at that week’s Musain meeting. Being the art student, R had done most of the actual painting, but Enjolras had talked him through his vision. _We talked about a lot that night_ , he recalled _._ Unfortunately, though, someone had caught them on video when they had left the alley, and come Monday, Grantaire was no longer employed at _Helios_. Not that he’d seemed to care. He’d just laughed it off and talked about how he had probably broken some sort of record for shortest-term employee they’d ever had. He’d worn the consequences of his actions like a badge of honor for months. 

_Fuck_. Enjolras suddenly became conscious of the fact that he was still thinking about Grantaire. Eager to drown out his thoughts, he shoved his earbuds into his ears and turned up the volume on his phone. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of hitting shuffle.

_“Should you invite me in / To spend the night on the floor / Oh, please believe I’ll be a gentleman / Or you can show me the door / While all my friends and I / leaf through the books on your shelf / No I don’t want to spend my life / With anyone else / Why don’t we kiss goodnight?”_

Great. Now even Spotify was mocking him. He ripped his earbuds out - he’d make the rest of the walk in silence. Surely he could figure out something else to think about. He always did.

\--

Even after his two-hour French lecture about the impact of the Algerian war of independence on French diplomatic strategy, Enjolras still was not successful. He couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his mind - Grantaire’s grand entrance, his angry outbursts, the way his eyes had so suddenly taken him captive when he asked to stay, the _forehead kiss_ \- it was all too much. He wished he could forget it just for a moment, just to have one moment of peace that didn’t include thinking about the feel of Grantaire’s lips on his forehead -

Right on cue, he felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out of the pocket of his jeans to check the notifications, and sure enough, 

**de R. Grantaire (10:07 AM)**

hey uhh. sorry about last night i was kinda fucked up

He had known it was coming. It didn’t make the anxiety he could feel building up in his chest any easier to manage. He resisted the urge to throw his phone as far away from himself as possible and run screaming in the other direction.

**de R. Grantaire (10:08 AM)**

i do still need a place to stay tho, is it still alright with you if i replace ferre?

**(10:10 AM)**

ouch bad wording i know i could never truly replace ferre. i absolutely REFUSE to read camus and i will NEVER CHANGE. that is a PROMISE 

So. Grantaire remembered. Enjolras took a deep, shaky breath, put his fingers to the keyboard, and typed absolutely nothing in response. After a few minutes of racking his brain for possible responses, he clicked his phone shut and tucked it back in his jeans. He’d figure it out when he got home. Maybe his head would feel a bit less like the fog he had walked through that morning by the time he arrived. 

**de R. Grantaire (10:16 AM)**

apolloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**(10:24 AM)**

apollo pleeeeease please answer i need to know if im gonna have to sleep on the floor next to the dulcet tones of eponine and cosette going at it for two months

**(10:25 AM)**

seriously apollo please dont make me do that i’m already depressed

**(10:30 AM)**

holy shit apollo if this is what it takes i promise to be less annoying if you let me stay in your apartment. i won’t make fun of you for being an wizened old man in a 22 year old body anymore. i won’t draw cartoons on all the weird guys in your philosophy textbooks. i won’t even argue with you when you’re clearly wrong! it’ll be like i’m not even there!

**(10:31 AM)**

ok yeah all of that was a lie im not gonna stop doing any of that but PLEASE

When he got back to his apartment, Enjolras quickly put all of his belongings in his room before taking a seat at the kitchen table, feeling slightly more prepared to devote his attention to the situation at hand. He wished he could go back to the night before and tell Grantaire no, that he would have to find someone else to go live with. It would have made sense. The two of them never agreed on anything, every conversation they had (no matter how trivial) turned into an argument, their fundamental outlooks on life were diametrically opposed - no one would blame him for turning him down. They had once gotten into a _very_ heated argument about whether water could be considered wet (it could not) that had nearly torn _les Amis_ apart at the seams - how could they be expected to live together? Grantaire’s love of arguing yet absolute refusal to believe in even the simplest of causes was unthinkable to Enjolras, and it drove him absolutely mad. Sure, he was also the slightest bit in love with him, but he had long since mastered controlling his emotions about Grantaire so that they - mostly - didn’t interfere with his day-to-day operations. So what if Enjolras had inadvertently compared them to Orestes and Pylades once or twice? What did it matter if he’d gotten a little, er, _overwhelmed_ when Grantaire had argued a point so well that he forced him to reconsider his stance on how to restructure the secondary educational system? It didn’t need to mean anything, though it would certainly be easier to convince himself of that when dealing with his emotions was not a daily issue. The prospect of _living_ with Grantaire, of having no space to escape to after a long day of fighting and feeling? Unthinkable.

But, as he read over Grantaire’s texts Enjolras could tell that he was desperate for housing. He had looked absolutely miserable at the thought of leaving town during their original “discussion” at the _Musain_ , and unfortunately, Enjolras’ entire life philosophy rested on the core tenets of helping the desperate and the miserable. So, even though his brain was screaming at him to turn him away, saying no was simply not an option. 

**de Vous (10:33 AM)**

Grantaire. It’s fine. You’re still welcome to stay with me. No reason for you to intrude on Éponine and Cosette if you don’t have to. Though, I really would prefer you not draw all over my damn textbooks if you can somehow find it within yourself not to act like a petulant child.

  
  


**de R. Grantaire (10:34 AM)**

whaaaaaat i don’t even know the meaning of the word

**(10:34 AM)**

seriously i have no idea what petulant means. why don’t you ever talk like a normal person 

**de Vous (10:36 AM)**

Are you really trying to push your luck so soon? I’d be happy to give Éponine a call and see if she’ll take you after all...

**de R. Grantaire (10:37 AM)**

PLEASE NO I SWEAR I’LL BE NICE STARTING NOW

  
Enjolras set his phone down on the kitchen table and pulled out his copy of _Women, Race, and Class_ , hoping that burying himself in some Davis might distract him from the chaos that he had just signed himself up for. This was definitely going to be an interesting two months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no beta we die like men <3 
> 
> anyways next time grantaire is finally gonna take the Big Leap and move in!! what could possibly happen!! certainly not MORE gay panic!!

**Author's Note:**

> big thank you to ao3 user kuragin for reading this and convincing me to post it!! love u bro thank u for encouraging my brainrot
> 
> follow me on tumblr! @bacchilles


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